


Stray

by Scrawlix



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlix/pseuds/Scrawlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevil finds Spider-man half dead in a dumpster. Dragging him home, he nurses him back to health. Peeling back the layers of a complex, young man, Matt realizes that he has a lot in common with the emotionally raw, damaged and vulnerable Peter Parker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based around the Netflix series and four years after the events of the Amazing Spider-Man 2. Admittedly, I don't know that much about these to characters beyond the MCU.

It happened so fast but strangely, his brain processed it like it was a video in slow motion. There was nothing to do but watch as the needle pierced the spandex of his suit and punctured his skin. The poison, whatever it was, burned the moment it entered his veins. He could feel it like molten lava beneath his skin. The muscles in his back contracted, his head went back and a shrill scream ripped from his throat. He struggled to keep conscious, throwing out an arm to sling a web, getting as far away as possible. He lost count how many times he was successful in landing a web, he couldn't figure out where he was. When at last his consciousness failed him, his legs buckled and his fingertips ripped from the wall.

There was the sensation of falling. 

The pain was there beneath his skin, alive like a fire. 

The falling sensation stopped. The feeling of movement had ended. 

**

Daredevil crept through the alleyway as silent as a stalking cat. He was the physical embodiment of a shadow, at ease with the night. He moved with a singular purpose, a deadly intent. Hunkering down behind a dumpster, he watched the road beyond the alley for traffic. There was supposed to be a van dropping off a shipment of heroin, another attempt made by interested cartels trying to move in on the power vacuum that Fisk's absence had created.

Cocking his head, he listened intently to the distant rumble of tires on pavement. There was a deep pothole in the road that he had filled with glass and nails. Anyone who had experience with this part of the neighborhood knew where it was but he was betting that the driver of the van was-

A groan. It came from the dumpster he was leaned up against. He stood up and bit back the urge to recoil from the stench that emanated from within. He could never get used to the smell of rotten refuse- rancid pork fat, used vegetable oil and old cigarette butts. Despite that, he braced himself and opened the lid. A human heartbeat, thready and weak. It was there, above the raspy breaths of a collapsed lung and the rattle of blood in the throat. He knew those sounds. He knew them intimately.

Pulling off a glove, he reached in a brushed his hand across an arm. Spandex, the texture was familiar. He wrapped his fingers around a bicep and pulled the body out of the dumpster. A man, a young man by the feel of his body. Covered in spandex. Even his face. There were a few spandex clad young men in this city. He brought a limp hand to his nose and inhaled deeply. No gunpowder or tacos. He recoiled. That distinct smell that always turned his stomach. The smell of raw silk.

"Spider-Man." He muttered, his hands skimming over the prone man's torso. "What happened?" Daredevil fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Claire. 

**

Pulling the gloves off, she sighed for the umpteenth time and speared the blind man with a dirty look. She knew it was futile to broadcast her displeasure this way-- well, any way, really but it made her feel a bit better. "He's been injected with something." She squinted at the puncture wound on the man's bicep. "A paralytic. A lot of it by the way his vitals are but thankfully we got him in time. Are you sure that he shouldn't be at a hospital?"

"No. Until I find out why he was where he was, I think it's prudent that we handle this quietly." Matt offered her a warm smile.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine. But I will be very annoyed if I get a call and have to come stitch you up if he wakes up swinging." Gathering her things, Claire walked to the door. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." He followed her out into the hallway. 

"I'll put it on your bill." She said over her shoulder as she padded down the hall and disappeared around the corner. 

Matt locked the door and listened to the inside of the apartment, narrowing in on the man who lay on his couch. It had been a pretty intense ordeal having to disguise the man's identity before Claire had come to pick them up in a van she had borrowed from somewhere. He had stripped him naked, stuffing his suit deep into the dumpster. It was so filthy and torn that it was hard to recognize but he took no chances, shredding the costume as he waited for a pick-up. 

A roadside intervention had been necessary when Claire had pulled up. She moved with an efficiency that only nurses were capable of. Soon the death rattles that plagued Spider-man had eased, his heartbeat grew stronger and Daredevil felt the tension ease from his own shoulders as he realized that he was out of the woods. 

The body on the couch groaned and Matt hoped that he was coming to. "Hey... " He said softly, settling a safe distance away in an armchair. 

"Whu… where… where am I?" 

"You are safe. I brought you here after finding you unconscious in a dumpster."

"A dumpster?" 

"Yes. I imagine you had quite a fall because you have some broken ribs and a sprained wrist. You were also injected with something, a paralytic, I think." Matt smiled warmly at the man, "Do you know how you got there, by any chance?"

"I… " He heard the man's breath hitch in his throat and his teeth clack as he opened and closed his mouth, "I don't know…"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Matt asked, his tone light and easy.

"I… I…" He swallowed twice before finishing his sentence, "My name is Peter Parker."

"That's a start, Mr. Parker." 

"I think I should be going…"

"Mr. Parker, I want to assure you that you aren't in any danger. I am a lawyer and I can help you if you are in trouble. Are you in trouble, Mr. Parker?"

"If I wasn't in trouble, why would I have been put in a dumpster after being injected with a paralytic?" 

Matt smiled, impressed with his deductions, "Is there someone who would worry about you being missing? A spouse? Parents?"

"My parents are dead. And no spouse. I live with my Aunt May."

"You should call your aunt and check in with her." He fished his cell phone out of his pocket. "I will call a friend in the morning and get you a drive home. For now, I'd feel much better if you stayed here so I can keep an eye on you."

"I appreciate that, Mister…"

"Matt Murdock." He said, "Just Matt will do."

"Thanks Matt." Peter rubbed his head as he settled back on the couch, the shift of the springs and the friction of cloth spoke volumes to the blind man. "I have to know, how is it that you found me in a dumpster in an alleyway in the middle of the night?"

"I was out for a walk."

"A little dangerous for someone like you… to be out…"

"I imagine that my circumstances are a bit suspicious but I assure you, I was out for a walk." Matt gave him his most charming smile. He stood suddenly and asked, "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Don't change the subject, Mr. Murdock. You know something about my circumstances if you weren't directly involved- which you haven't proved yet." Peter said.

"You haven't thought about a career as a lawyer, have you?" 

"I'm more of the sciencey type." 

"That's a shame." He felt his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, he was sweating. "I think you'd make a good lawyer."

"You are deflecting. What aren't you telling me?"

The more elaborate the lies the more likely a person was to get caught. It was a mantra he had tattooed on the inside of his skull, one that had given him the ability to keep his secret identity intact. It took him a split second, barely the length of a heartbeat to decide what to say. "I was investigating some traffic in the area for a case I'm on."

"But you're blind…"

"I had a partner."

"Who helped you get me back to your apartment."

"Yes."

There was no such thing as silence in Matt's world. There hadn't been for a long, long time. The cues were there and he could tell that Peter was wrestling with a thought. "Is there something wrong, Peter?"

"No. Nothing." He stood up suddenly but teetered dangerously. Matt was over the table and had his arms wrapped around Peter, gently easing him back onto the couch. He cradled Peter against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and pulse, smelling the sweat blossoming on his skin. 

"Peter, are you sure you feel alright?" He asked.

"I'm… Oh my god." Peter pushed away, stood up and promptly dropped to the floor. He clutched at his stomach. "What's going on… I-I… I feel so warm."

Matt dropped to Peter's side, pressing a hand to the back to his neck. "What do you need me to do?"

"I don't- I don't-don't…" Peter collapsed against Matt, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I can't breathe!"

"You are having a panic attack, Peter. There's nothing wrong with you, you just have to breathe. Deep breaths, Peter." His whispered into his ear as he rubbed circles on his back. 

"I don't know why this is happening." Peter sobbed, pushing his face into Matt's chest. 

He rocked the smaller man gently back and forth. His senses seemed to focus in on Peter, zeroing in on the sound of his sobs, his heartbeat and the smell of tears and sweat. "What caused this?"

"I don't know. I feel like there's something keeping me from wanting to remember something important..." His words were muffled in the folds of Matt's shirt. 

Matt's hands framed his face, the pads of his thumbs ghosted across Peter's cheekbones. He felt curious, wanting to know what this young man looked like. "I want to do something, Peter. I want to ask your permission, first."

"What?"

"May I see your face?"

"I don't understand."

"I am asking if I can touch your face."

"Uhm… okay."

Tentatively, Matt removed his hands and gently traced the lines of Peter's face. The curve of his jaw gave way to a delicate earlobe. Around the shell of his ear, Matt's fingers chased the gentle curves of his forehead and brow, the ridge of his orbital bones. The picture his hands sketched of Peter's face caused Matt to smile. He was beautiful. Heartbreakingly so. And young!

The Bugle had diligently chronicled every blunder and (grudgingly) every victory of the infamous Spider-Man. Violence settled over Peter like a shroud, much like it did with him. It had taken such a toll on him, he wondered what it took from someone as young as Peter. It made sense that he would feel so anxious about the return of his secret identity that it would trigger an attack. He was absolutely terrified. Matt knew what it took to don a secret identity that would inevitably drive him to violence. How would it feel being so young and feeling such enormous responsibility? 

"Thank you, Peter." His hands lingered over the younger man's lower lip. He pulled away, realizing how close he was. Touching a person's face was a very, very intimate act and it was one he indulged in often. That he had leaned in so closely caused him to blush. He was surprised when Peter's face pushed against his fingers and lips captured his. 

It took every fiber of his considerable amount of control not to demand more. He could have pushed him down and nipped his full bottom lip, eliciting a gasp and causing his mouth to open. It would be nothing for his own tongue to slip into Peter's mouth, gently probe. He would wrap a hand around the muscled column of his neck, feeling his larynx contract and the muscles in jaw move as he swallowed--

He pulled away gently, pushing a hand against Peter's chest. "I'm sorry, Peter."

"For what?" Peter's voice was raspy and his breath was coming in a bit fast. Matt could almost hear the blood rush to the capillaries in Peter's skin, causing him to blush. 

"I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable." He sat back, his fingers tracing along the pattern in the carpet they sat on. "How old are you, Peter?"

"I'm nineteen."

Barely an adult. He recalled the first appearances of the infamous Spider-Man four years ago. He should have been concerned about being a teenager and whatever teenagers worried about but he was battling monsters and saving Manhattan instead. Matt couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man. He knew what it felt like to be extraordinary and also feel the crippling need to do something about the calamitous world around him. 

He found himself reaching out and gently cupping Peter's cheek, feeling it damp with tears and still warm from blushing. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

"I think so." Peter sounded so tired. 

Matt stood and offered the young man a hand to help him stand. "Come on, I'm going to put you to bed. You need sleep."

"I don't think I want to." He said as he stood up and followed Matt into the bedroom. "Will you stay with me?" He asked, his voice soft.

He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't. He should give Peter space because he sounded so damn lost. It was messy and this kid was a stranger but Matt felt a certain amount of kinship towards him. He never had anyone until Foggy. Foggy had never really understood how many times he had rescued him from the depths of the darkness that consumed his soul. If he had never met his best friend, he would be as wretched, lost and alone as Peter Parker was at that moment. 

Pulling back the thick silk duvet, he waited for Peter to slip in before he walked around the other side of the bed and settled in. Peter squirmed closer and fidgeted before Matt reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. The young man was impossibly warm. His skin smelled like antiseptic and the soap Matt had used to wipe away the blood and filth. His heartbeat was so loud. In his arms, Peter had already succumbed to sleep and was breathing deeply. A strange peace settled around Matt, an odd sense of rightness that made him smile against Peter's temple. He closed his eyes and slid into Morpheus' tight embrace.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt reflects on his life and how he feels responsible for Peter's recovery. He finds Peter in his grungy apartment and drags him back home. Foggy appears and makes everything awky. More tears. More confusion. Why do superheroes have to be so messed up?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been beta'd. I feel bad for not getting this posted sooner but I had a bit of a block, had written myself into a corner and was being stubborn about deleting it. I eventually deleted and restarted. I'm sort of happy that I did. 
> 
> Anywhoodles. Hope you enjoy.

When he woke up it was to the sound of the door swinging open and closing. He sat up in bed and rubbed the back of his head, wondering how it was that Peter had gotten out the door without waking him. It had probably had something to do with how exhausted he was. He had been up for the past few days with nothing but a snatched twenty minute nap here and there. 

After a shower and breakfast, he felt much better. He had had time to ponder Peter's situation as he munched on his cereal. It was clear that Peter was alone and that was wearing on him. Constantly being in danger, wondering what day would be your last was corrosive to a person's mental health. Even when it was pushed down deep- it was always there. Like scum on the surface of a pond. 

He had wrestled with this his whole life and he still didn't have an answer for how to cope. He was barely handling it himself. The nightmares, the hyper vigilance, the flashbacks triggered by the most innocuous things. Sticks had told him that he had been soft despite his prodigal training and that had given him focus for his acute senses which had been overcompensating for his loss of sight. Unfortunately, he had had to learn a lot on his own. While Sticks had trained his body and his mind he hadn't taught him to cope with the emotional duress that taxed his devout, impressionable young mind. 

Peter hadn't really had the chance to train. Hadn't been given the opportunity to learn to gain the emotional calluses that were needed in order to effectively do what he did. Matt wondered if his deductions made him responsible for young man. If his mentor had provided him with the emotional conditioning that he had had to learn the hard way, what would his life had been like? What type of person would he have been? Would he have made the right choices? God only knew. 

"Good Morning! How was your night?" Karen asked as he stepped into the office of Nelson and Murdock. 

"Good Morning, Karen." He took the coffee that she held out for him and took a sip before speaking, "Could you please get me the number of Peter Parker?"

"Peter Parker? Who's that?" Nelson asked as he came out of his office. "Has this got something to do with the case from the other day?"

"Just following a hunch." He turned to his friend and offered him a smile. 

"There are a lot of Peter Parkers in New York, Matt. You are going to have to narrow it down for me."

"I think he's tangled up with Spider-Man somehow and I suspect he might be in danger."

She opened her laptop and began to furiously type. "There's a photographer that works for the Daily Bugle." Karen offered.

"That is probably the one. Someone gave me his description. Young, caucasian, in his late teens or early twenties. Compact, athletic build. 5'10" and around 170 pounds. Might have a science background."

"Yep, that's him. He's a casual time photographer that has photographed Spider-Man almost exclusively. He's 19, skinny and looks like he's in dire need of a sandwich but he's a cutie pie. Also, is in his second year at ESU on a scholarship. Smart kid." She said, clicking and tapping her way through the information with ease. "His cell is publicly listed. Hand over your phone and I'll put it in."

**

Peter wasn't really thinking, he was just walking. His mind was blank but not comfortably so. He felt like he was teetering on the edge and any moment he would fall. He felt raw, frayed around the edges. He found himself standing in front of a brownstone building and sat on the step until someone from inside opened the door. He slipped in and up a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time with ease. Peter didn't question how he knew about the hidden spare key to his apartment beneath an old, rusted fire extinguisher but he did. He opened the door to his apartment, letting the door swing open on squeaky hinges. It was pretty bare, furnished pathetically with dilapidated cast-offs that he had found in dumpsters or in trash heaps. It was all functional and free which was most important of all. There wasn't a modicum of personal comfort to be had beside the few photos he taped to the wall of friends, family and scattered prized images that he had managed to capture. 

He stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. This was his life. Filling up the empty kitchen sink with warm water, he stripped off his clothes and grimaced as he looked at his reflection in a small, dingy mirror. Fresh bruises covered the side of his face that he must have slammed into the dumpster. Marks peppered the pale skin on his throat and shoulders. Bandages crisscrossed his torso, stuck on by surgical tape. Fishing out a medical kit from beneath the sink, he opened it up and began to carefully remove the bandages. His fingers probed the sore spots. His ribs weren't broken, just fractured if he were to hazard a guess. The gash down his side was definitely a problem but the stitches were neat and better than anything he could have done by himself. He washed off the dried blood, slathered on antiseptic before replacing the bandages. 

After washing, Peter pulled on a clean shirt and boxer briefs. The exertion left him gasping. He sat down on the small single bed, springs squeaking in protest, and leaned back against the wall. The pain was incredible. He felt nauseous. He closed his eyes as the room began to spin and bit back the urge to cry. If he was going to be honest- he was terrified. The gaping holes in his memory terrified him for two reasons. First because he was obviously terrified of finding out what he was missing and second, he was worried about the implications that lack of knowledge might incur. The only link he had to that information was Matt Murdock and he wanted to believe that the man didn't know much of anything beyond what he had already told him. Wanted to. But instinct that originated in the blank spaces of his mind told him that there was more to Matt than he was letting on.

His eyes opened, he hadn't realized that he had closed them, when a phone started ringing. The shrill noise was coming from the drawer beside the bed. He fished out the cell and answered. 

"Mr. Parker. It's Matt Murdock."

"Mr. Murdock." Peter smiled picturing the lawyer in his mind. His handsome face, brown hair tousled from sleep, a day and night's worth of scruff on his narrow jaw. Scars and bruises littered his naked torso and graceful limbs. The pyjama pants that rode low on his hips. How he slept with abandon; arms thrown over his head, long fingers curled over square, callused palms. "Yes, I'm still here, sorry."

"Good. I wanted to make sure that you were alright. You left abruptly this morning and I was concerned for your wellbeing." There was a long pause. "Would you mind if I came by your apartment after work to check up on you?"

"That's not necessary, Mr. Murdock. I'm fine, really."

"Please, if not for you then just to appease my conscience. I feel bad letting an injured man fend for himself."

Peter licked his lips, torn between telling the man no and the desire to see him again. "Fine. Okay. Do you have my address? You do? Okay, well I will be here." Hanging up after saying goodbye, he tossed the phone on the bed. For some strange reason, he felt relieved that he wouldn't have to be alone. 

By the time Matt knocked at the door, the young man was figuratively crawling up the wall. He opened it and smiled at the lawyer who stood clutching his cane to his chest. "Hi, Matt. Come in, please. The floor is clear and there's a bed around ten feet in front of you. Did you want me to help you to sit?"

Matt offered him a wide smile, "That's not necessary, Peter. I can do it."

"Sure thing." He moved into the kitchen and opened the small fridge. "Would you like a drink? I only have bottled water and some orange juice, though."

Matt sat tentatively on the bed, collapsing his cane and putting it beside him. "No Peter, I'm fine. Come sit down. I'd like to speak with you."

"Okay." Peter settled onto the bed, curling a leg beneath him. His knee touched Matt's thigh. It was the minimal amount of contact but it made his skin feel like it was vibrating.   
"Are you in any pain?" Matt asked, his hand reaching out to tentatively touch his leg.

"Uhm… no." He was in a large amount of pain, actually but didn't have any access to painkillers. Besides, they would make him feel groggy and he sensed that was the last thing he needed. 

"Are you sure? If you want, we can go back to my apartment where I can get you something for the pain." His fingers ran up the length of his thigh and then back down, eliciting a small, shuddering breath from Peter. 

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell the truth but he couldn't. He didn't want the painkillers that would probably be foisted on him if he confessed. Peter watched as Matt lifted the hand from his leg and pulled off the glasses, folding them before placing them in a pocket within his jacket. The movement was economical; precise. His long fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as if to ease a perceived headache. "I'm in a bit of pain." He admitted, feeling responsible for the discomfort that he imagined Matt was feeling.

"Have had anything to eat yet?"

"No." It was like something in his head gave, like a dam bursting. He leaned against Matt, twisting his body so he could rest his forehead on the other man's shoulder. "I'm tired. I'm hurting. I'm hungry. I'm scared. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know anything. I know that there's something important that I need to remember but I also can't decide if want to remember it or not."

Matt's hand cradled the back of Peter's skull, his long fingers lacing through his hair. He gently scratched his scalp with blunt fingernails. "We'll figure this out together. I will make sure that nothing bad happens to you. Just come back with me. Pack some things and come back to the apartment with me. Let me take care of you." He murmured, his mouth close enough that his lips brushed against the sensitive shell of his ear.

"Okay. I'll get my things." But he didn't move. He liked feeling Matt so close. He liked the feel of his body pressed against his solid frame. 

"Peter... " The hand on the back of his head dropped to his shoulders. He pushed gently, putting distance between the two. He didn't trust himself in close proximity with Peter. "Get your things. I'll call a cab."

Peter nodded and moved around the room, cramming clothes and books into a knapsack. They didn't speak until they got to Matt's apartment. He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his buttondown before slumping into his favourite armchair. For his part, Peter dropped his bag on the couch and settled in beside it, his head dropping back. His fingers found the edge of the bandage taped to his side and he idly stroked the gauze as his mind wandered. 

"I went into that apartment and everything seemed so similar." Peter stared at the ceiling, counting its tiles. "And I couldn't help but think about how badly I didn't want to remember." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He could feel his throat go tight as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

"You don't want to remember?" Matt steepled his fingers and his brow drew down as he thought about how this confirmed his worries about Peter. His mental block was the result of long term trauma. His mind had finally buckled under the constant threat of violence and fear. "I understand."

"You know what it is that I can't remember, don't you?"

Matt dipped his head, feeling guilt blossom in his chest. "I don't know what you are--"

A hand slammed on the coffee table, the wood gave under the strength of the blow. "Don't LIE to me." Peter snarled, "You are like me. I know you are. I saw the bruises and the scars. They are exactly like mine."

At the noise of the table splintering, Matt had surged to his feet and brought his fists up in a defensive stance. It was more habit than anything else. Immediately, he heard the intake of a shocked gasp. His movements must have betrayed his truth. 

"Who are you, Matt?"

If he didn't tell Peter the truth, he knew that the young man would never trust him and would never open up. If he did tell him, he could jeopardize himself and those he loved. He didn't expect Peter to expose him. Was he worried that Peter would say something? He didn't know. He couldn't make that assumption. He slumped back down onto the chair, cradling his head in his hands. If Peter died, Spider-Man died, what effect could that have on this city? This city, this world, needed all the help it could get and from what Matt knew of Spider-Man, he would be doing everybody a serious disservice if he didn't help prevent the complete collapse of this young man.

Matt's head ached. He pulled the tie off completely and went into the kitchen to fix dinner. "I will tell you that I'm a friend. I'm an ally. I know what you are going through because I have gone through it myself." He said simply, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard and filling it with potatoes. He settled into the familiar rhythm of peeling and chopping, then depositing them into a new bowl to be covered in dried spices and oil. He sensed Peter moving and he wondered if he was going to have to chase the boy out the door. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when Peter began slicing up a pepper he had set out to saute. 

They settled into a companionable silence as they prepared dinner. He was expecting Foggy to stop by, knowing his best friend was most likely dying to ask him all about Peter Parker, so he had made enough for him as well. 

"My friend Foggy is stopping by at any moment. He's most likely going to eat with us if that's okay with you?"

"He doesn't know anything about me does he?"

"Only what we could find on the internet- you are a student on scholarship at ESU and a part time photographer at the Bugle. I haven't told him about how I found you so I leave that up to your own discretion." 

As if on cue, there was the sound of keys sliding into the lock and the door opening. Foggy called out, "Smells delicious." He dropped his briefcase by the door and kicked his shoes off before moving through the apartment. He stopped in front of the kitchen counter to take in the sight of both Peter and Matt cooking. "Well. Seems like I've got competition for food tonight."

Introductions were made before Matt pulled plates out of the cupboard and held them out to Foggy. "Make yourself useful," He prompted.

Matt had anticipated Foggy would be able to bring some life to their sad little party. Immediately, the two had hit it off and were talking animatedly about the latest fiasco in the news. Apparently, Tony Stark was at it again and had accidentally created a mass murdering, psychopathic robot which managed to completely level a foreign city. Foggy had always been able to speak to strangers with an ease that Matt admired. He had coaxed Peter out of his shell and before long, was laughing at one of Foggy's wildest anecdotes regarding the infamous Iron Man. 

It seemed to him that as soon as Peter started talking about anything else besides his personal life, he lit up. He was charismatic but in a goofy and unrefined kind of way that was very endearing. It as an hour after dinner was consumed that Foggy turned to face Matt and patted him on the arm, "This guy's pretty cool."

"I'm glad you think so." Matt grinned at his friend.

"Well, you have my blessing."

His grin melted and he frowned, "Blessing?"

"Yeah… you know to date?"

There was a long stretch of silence before both Peter and Matt spoke at the same time, "No, Foggy, that's not what this was about--"

"--Date? What?" Peter squeaked. 

"It's not? I'm confused." The lawyer scratched his head and looked between the two, "I guess I misread. I'm sorry. This is awkward."

"No, it really isn't." Matt laughed and took a long swig of his beer as he tried to even his thoughts. He set the beer down and tilted his head back, holding his belly as he laughed again. "I'm sorry."

Peter meanwhile was trying his best to keep his embarrassment from making a fool of himself. He scratched the bridge of his nose and felt his ears go red. "I have no idea where that came from."

"I just figured that he was over for dinner because you wanted me to give the seal."

"The seal?"

"Y'know, the seal of approval."

Peter asked, "Guys do that?"

"Sure. Especially when they are friends with Matt Murdock who is notorious for picking the totally unavailable ones." 

Matt grimaced, "I'm not that bad."

"Really? Do I have to remind you of Elektra? Hmm?"

"Please, you really don't." 

"Who is Elektra?"

"Ohhh she's a special one. Hot- absolutely smokin' hot and smart. She spoke like three languages and could hold a conversation about quantum physics, chaucer while winning a debate about the ethics of corporate law."

"Alright, alright. I think he gets the point." Matt groused, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, "We weren't right for one another."

"That's like saying gasoline and fire sorta get along sometimes. You two were scary together."

"I bet the sex was great." Peter grinned, scooping up his beer and taking a drink.

Foggy laughed, "I wouldn't know but there were definitely some days where I'd come to walk with him to class and the guy was covered head to toe in bruises and could barely walk."

"And Elektra had something to do with it?" Peter asked.

"Oh I have no doubt, " He answered and stood up, taking his empty plate and bottle to the counter. "Anyways, now that I've made things really weird, I better be going." 

Matt shook his head with dismay, "I can't believe you are going to ditch me like this."

"It's my superpower. Chaos. Awkwardness. Embarrassment" He struck a pose, putting his fists on his hips and surveyed the room before giving a satisfactory nod. "My work here is done."

"Get out. Get out now!" Matt tossed a fork at him before collecting dirty dishes. 

"Later, brother! Nice to meet you not-boyfriend Peter."

"Nice to meet you too, Foggy."

After dinner dishes were cleaned and put away, Matt set up his laptop and began to work. Peter settled on the couch with a massive textbook on Organic Chemistry but didn't make much of attempt at studying. He stared out the window, feeling wistful and restless. He couldn't explain the feeling but the amount of shifting he did started to agitate his stitches which caused him to squirm more.

At its worst, Matt lifted his head up from his work and looked at the man who was still staring out the window. He knew for a fact that there wasn't much to look at besides the brick wall of the neighboring building but it seemed that this was fascinating to Peter. He cleared his throat, leaned back and felt the vertebra in his back pop. "What's on your mind, Peter?"

He blinked and stared at the man who was sitting with his hands laced on his head. Trying to trace the thought he had been wrapped up, in dropped the highlighter he had been gnawing on and looked down at the text. "I'm not sure, really. Just thinking."

"Oh?"

"I was thinking about relationships. I haven't had very many. Mary Jane and... " He ducked his head and bit his lip thinking about flashing eyes and long blonde hair, "Gwen."

"Gwen?"

"Gwen Stacy." He looked up, the threat of tears making his eyes overly bright, "She was killed. I... I feel responsible for her death."  
Matt knew the cause of Miss Stacey's demise. She had been found with her neck snapped, her spine completely severed. The circumstances were unclear but if Spider-Man had something to do with it, it made sense that that type of injury could be caused by him trying to catch her as she fell. It had been said that traces of Spider-Man's trademark silk had been found on her clothes, the front of her coat, more specifically. There had been a while where the Bugle was calling for Spider-Man's arrest but nothing had come from it just like the majority of J.J. Jameson's wild accusations. 

"It happened four years ago but I haven't allowed myself to think about it."

"You haven't grieved over her loss?"

"Briefly but there was always something that I had to concentrate on." Peter frowned as he tried to remember. His brow relaxed and he scrubbed his face, "Always something that kept me from being completely human."

"Have you… " Matt licked his lips, feeling nervous, "Have you been to her grave since it happened?"

"No. I've tried. I wanted to. But I never had the time. I never let myself have the time." 

Matt closed his laptop and placed his things back in his satchel before taking a seat beside the haunted young man. He placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, "I'm sorry, Peter."

He found himself leaning into the touch, rubbing his cheek along Matt's rough, chapped knuckles. "It made me think about Harry. He was my best friend and then he wasn't. And then there was Brock who…" His eyes went blank as he began to remember, sucked in by the strong currents of his memory. 

The blind man cocked his head, listening to the rush of Peter's blood beneath his skin and the quickening of his heartbeat. His breath was coming fast and shallow. He guessed that Peter was on the verge of another anxiety attack. "I'm here. I'm here," Matt soothed, cradling Peter's overly warm face in the palms of his hands. 

"Don't make me remember."

"What can I do?"

"Make me forget." Peter whispered softly, leaning into his touch. The desperation in his words, the tension that vibrated along his skin spoke loudly to Matt, feeding a need of his own to protect the young man from the pain he had probably felt all his life. He didn't want Peter to hurt. He wanted to hear his laugh again. He wanted to lift the darkness off of him so that he could smile with ease. He wrapped his arms around Peter's neck and pulled him down onto the couch, allowing him to rest his head on his chest, to feel the steadiness of his heartbeat and draw comfort in Matt's strength. 

It was in the wee hours of the night when Matt woke. He and Peter had fallen asleep on the couch together. Peter's leg was thrown over his hip and one arm was curled around his chest as the other cupped his own cheek. He was drooling into Matt's shirt. He could feel the cold, damp spot as Peter's breath fanned over his chest. There was no way that he would be able to extract himself from the young man without waking him. He gently carded Peter's wild hair, pushing it away from his face. The hand left his scalp to skim along his bottom lip, marveling in how petal soft and kissable they felt. 

God help me, he said in silent supplication as he felt the heat blossom in his chest. Desire reared its ugly head and he found himself responding to the warm pressure of Peter's leg on his groin. Peter moaned in his sleep, it was a soft and breathy sound that went straight to Matt's head. He shifted slightly to ease the pressure but found Peter had moved so that his face pressed against the length of his neck- a place that had always been incredibly sensitive to him. 

"Peter." He whispered huskily, running a hand up his arm to grip his shoulder and give him a light shake. The smaller man groaned again nuzzled into Matt's throat, his lips skimming across his skin. "Peter." He shook his shoulder again and felt the flutter of his eyelashes as he sighed awake. 

"Matt?" He lifted his head, his eyebrows knit in confusion. "We must have fallen asleep."

"Must have." Matt smiled and began to pull away. He sat up and set his feet on the floor. Righting his clothes which had twisted around uncomfortably. Matt breathed in deep through his nose, forcing his body to relax and his arousal to ease. "Go to bed, Peter. I'll stay on the couch."

"I don't want to put you out, Matt. The couch is fine."

"No, really, I insist. I have some work to get done anyways." And he didn't think he would be able to sleep with the sensation of Peter's body pressed against him still fresh in his mind. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very. Go to bed." Matt offered him a smile before going back to his laptop.

Peter nodded, confused at his distant attitude. The man was so confusing- first hot and then cold. Caring and then uncaring. He would draw him in and then when it came to finding his own comfort, pull back. He felt discomfort blossom in his chest and he made a face as he walked into the bedroom and pulled off his shirt. Matt confused him. He certainly made him forget about his own troubles, but it didn't help that he felt conflicted over what Matt was doing to him. Was there something wrong with him? 

He crawled into the bed and stared at the wall for a long moment, letting the heaviness of sleep settle back over him.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt did up the last buckle and slid the cowl over his face. He took one last moment to listen to Peter's steady breathing before he slipped out of the apartment through a window and down the fire escape to the alley below. When he got to street level, he took off at a brisk pace towards the warehouse he had been scoping out before he fished Peter out of the dumpster. This time, instead of waiting for a van, he jimmied the lock on the door and walked inside. 

There was the van that he had been waiting for but from the smell of it, it had been cleaned out- the contents were long gone. Whoever it was that had delivered the drugs hadn't stuck around, either. This was a dead end, or at least it was until the driver came back for the van- if he even did. He left the building and turned the corner to where he had found Peter's body. There was a drainpipe nearby. He crouched down and crammed his hand inside, fishing out the bundle he had stuffed in there. It was Peter's tech- the web slingers- wrapped tightly in shreds of his costume and tied tightly in a grocery bag. He tucked the bundle in a deep thigh pocket and then began walking back to his apartment. 

The lights flicked on as he jumped down from the window sill. He sensed Peter's heartbeat pick up and heard the gasp that ripped from his lips. He ducked his head instinctively, listening as he moved towards him. "I was surprised when you were gone."

Pulling the cowl back, he rubbed at his sweat damp hair. "I had to go take care of some business." He undid the leather jacket as he walked across the room.

"Okay. I was worried for a second."

Folding the jacket and kicking off the boots, Matt put the uniform back in its place at the bottom of the trunk that sat in the closet. "You are taking this surprisingly well."

"You never kept it a secret. I just chose not to ask anymore questions."

"True." He stood in his boxer briefs and sweaty undershirt. 

"Did you go out because of me? Did you find anything?"

"I went back to retrieve something that had been left behind." Matt said, walking into the kitchen to get himself a drink. He wondered what good it would do to force Peter to face the truth and thought better of it. It might cause the young man to bolt and that could get him killed, Matt deduced and set his glass in the sink. "I need a shower. You should go back to bed."

"Come with me?" 

Matt hesitated. He wanted a shower. He wanted to think. He was worried about the fallout from the drugs reaching the street. He needed to figure out a way to track the thugs down and get them out of Hell's Kitchen. It was just so hard to focus when he had this impossibly beautiful, vulnerable man sleeping in his bed.

Peter's hand slid into his and led him to the bed. He could hear the whisper of cloth and skin as they met. He could hear the beat of his heart as Peter drew him close, tugging Matt down on top of him. Matt found his Catholic conscience go lucid, the constant worry and guilt that gnawed away at him went silent. He dipped his head and pressed his nose and mouth to the clean line of Peter's throat. Fingers carded his damp hair, fingernails scraped against his scalp. Matt let out the breath he had been holding, letting his frustration go with it. 

The hand that wasn't wrapped in his hair was ghosting along the hem of his shirt. Matt almost groaned as his knuckles brushed against his skin. He straddled Peter's waist, sitting on his legs. Arching his back, he rested his ear against his rib cage and listened intently to the sound of his body. It sounded like a symphony to his heightened senses. The blood rushing beneath his skin, the shift of his bones as he breathed, the air passing through his lungs, the thump of his heart- all of it was hypnotic. He found himself feeling grateful for not having to hide this part of himself as he always had. At the same time, that old Catholic guilt was rearing its ugly head and he was beginning to feel guilty for taking advantage of Peter's vulnerability. Perhaps it was the subtle tensing of his body at this acknowledgement but Peter's arms wrapped tighter around him to keep him from drawing their intimacy to a close. He forced himself to relax and breathe deeply. 

His hands itched to touch skin. It was almost impossible to resist. His knuckles dragged over the cotton material that covered Peter's ribs and reverently touched the warm, soft skin along his hips. He closed his eyes, focusing on breathing Peter's strange inhuman scent while gently running his hands over his body. He burned hotter than normal humans. He smelled a bit different- the smell of human was combined with the unmistakable scent of something more. Beneath the layers of soap and sweat and musk, there was the smell of power and danger and-

He breathed deeply again, forcing his thoughts to slow. Lifting his head from Peter's chest, he brushed his lips against the line of his jaw and felt the stubble there. He found Peter's mouth with his, kissing him deeply. Their tongues melded, clashed like liquid heat. Breath mingled and came quicker. Matt untangled his hands from Peter's shirt to grab the sides of his face to force him to be still. There was something in his chest, something heavy and languid, that wanted to consume Peter. 

He was up off the bed in a heartbeat and had slammed and locked the door to the bathroom before Peter could protest. He took deep gulping breaths, trying to calm the storm that roared in his brain and across his hypersensitive skin. He leaned heavily on the sink, ignoring Peter as he spoke from behind the door.

Matt couldn't remember that last time he felt like he was spiraling out of control when it came to wanting another person. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Peter was as close to what he was as he would ever have a chance of getting. He could let loose and not worry about hurting him. 

But you can hurt him, the voice in his head warned. He might by physically invulnerable as Matt was but he was painfully exposed when it came to his psyche. He scrubbed at his face before grinding the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. 

He hadn't touched another human in so long. It had been nice. It had been more than that if he was going to be completely honest with himself. "Goddamn you, Matt Murdock!" He growled to himself, feeling frustrated.

The knocking had stopped when Matt got out of the shower. He sensed that Peter was still in the apartment and instead of just staying in the bathroom like he wanted, Matt strolled into the bedroom with a damp towel wrapped around his hips. He tensed at the sound of Peter's heartbeat picking up. 

"You can't just do that to me." Peter's voice was raspy. He was sitting in a chair by the door into the living room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"I can't do anything with you, Peter. You are far too vulnerable and I took advantage of that for my own selfish wants."

"Oh come on! You are acting like I didn't want it. I did-- I do want it."

Matt turned to the longboy and fished out a pair of clean briefs. "I don't think you know what you are asking, Peter. I am not capable of casual sex and I doubt you are in any position to be, either. Our lives are incompatible both by day and by night."

"Are you serious? We have been in each other's orbit for a total of four days and you think you know so much about me that you can decide something like that?"

Matt stepped into the briefs, pulling them up before unwrapping the towel. He considered Peter's words, giving himself time to answer by busting himself with returning the towel to the bathroom. When he came back in, he found that Peter had moved closer, eradicating the distance between them. "You make it seem like I am the only damaged one but I think you have more than a few wounds to deal with." Peter said, pressing the palm of his hand on Matt's sternum. He placed his own hand over Peter's and fought back the urge to retreat. 

"You don't know what you are asking, Peter."

"Perhaps I don't but I have a funny feeling that you don't have a clue, either." Peter stepped closer, his hand still on Matt's chest. He pressed a chaste kiss against his mouth and stepped away before Matt could react. "Come to bed with me. Just hold me and sleep." 

Matt complied, allowing himself to be led to the bed. He slipped beneath the clean, silk sheets and clutched at the arm that wrapped around his waist, feeling Peter's warm, broad chest press against his back. 

Neither of them had wanted to get out of bed. When Matt's alarm started bleating, a hand snaked out and slapped it off but there was no movement that followed besides the rustling of bed sheets as the two bodies in bed squirmed to get closer. It wasn't until Matt's phone went off, announcing Foggy as the caller that the two lurched out of bed, realizing that they were late. 

"Yes, Foggy, I'm coming. No, nothing is wrong. I'm just running behind. I slept in- it's no big deal!" Matt huffed as he held the phone against his face with his shoulder and grabbed a suit that hung in closet. Peter was hopping into jeans, listening to the conversation and feeling a bit nauseous at the prospect of walking into a lecture hall in the middle of the class. 

"You'll be here?" Matt said suddenly, his hand on the door frame as he faced Peter with a hopeful look. 

"I should probably hit study hall after this class and then I better show my face to JJJ." He grabbed his knapsack from the couch before crossing the room, placing a kiss on Matt's cheek before walking past him. Hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him back into the room. Matt turned him around and pushed him against the wall, pinning him there with his body before kissing him soundly. 

"Wha--" 

"Have a good day, Peter." Matt whispered in his ear, nipping the side of his neck before walking out the door and leaving the other man feeling dazed and breathless. 

It took him a few minutes to gather his scattered wits. He managed to catch the bus downtown and walked the last few blocks. By that time, his mind had calmed considerably. His thoughts had turned to the missing classes and formulating a plan to recover the lost notes when he felt a powerful tingle run up and down his spine. His skin felt like it was trying to jump off his bones. He stopped and looked around the street, zeroing in on a car coming towards him. The car was swerving. It picked up speed, hit the curb and bounced onto the sidewalk. He jumped straight up into the air, his feet connecting with the hood of the car. His body moved by its own volition, reflexes working to keep him upright. He landed on the pavement, his feet planted shoulder width apart. He walked around the side of the car and opened the door. It was an older man and he was clutching his chest.

"Call 911!" He yelled at the gathering crowd. Undoing the seat belt and loosening his tie, he looked the old man in the eye and smiled his most charming smile, "Hey! What's your name?"

\--

He had lingered over paperwork and jumped whenever his phone went off, hoping it was Peter. When the phone rang, Matt couldn't help but smile at the sound of Peter's name.

"So, I saved a guy today." Peter said, sounding more confused than pleased with himself.

"What did you do?"

"I was walking towards the campus and this car came straight at me. I felt like my skin was going to crawl off but I jumped straight up in the air and landed on the hood of the car. I felt like I was being possessed! I wasn't even out of breath."

"And the driver?"

"He was having a heart attack. So I got him calmed down, the ambulance came and took him away. It was amazing! I didn't even know I could do that."

"I bet there's a lot you can do that you aren't aware of Peter." The silence yawned and made Matt wince. He knew that was going too far. He tried to think of something to say, anything to make up for his carelessness. "So I hope you like Chinese…" He added lamely.

"Yeah, definitely. I'll be there in a bit. I gotta stop by the police station to make a statement about the accident. I'm going to go now. JJJ is heading towards me as we speak and by the look of things, I'm about to get my ass handed to me."

"Good luck."

"God, why do I even do this? Later." The call ended and Matt shook his head, trying to imagine Peter being yelled at by someone who was notorious for his anger issues. A person who was capable of leaping over cars was freaking out about being yelled at. It made him laugh. 

"What's so funny?" Foggy asked from the doorway.

"Oh nothing, just…" He waved his hand vaguely, "It's nothing. Apparently, Peter saved someone today before almost getting runned over."

"Are you sure he's not a superhero?"

Matt huffed, "I'm sure."

Time passed slowly for Matt. He followed Foggy to Josie's and had a beer while he listened to his friend complain about the subpoena he was trying to get on a local ex-cop. It surprised him when Foggy spoke up, "Hey! It's our buddy Peter!" 

Matt cocked his head and listened to the sound of footsteps as he neared. "What are you doing here?" He asked as Peter settled into a chair between him and Foggy. 

"I went to the local station to do the witness report. I was over at your apartment but there was no answer so I figured you were still at work and I'd go get a drink while I waited."

"Oh?" Foggy asked into his glass and Matt could only imagine the look of piqued interest on his friend's face. 

"My place is being fumigated so Matt was kind enough to offer me a spot on his couch," Peter said as he shrugged out of his backpack and dropped it on the floor between his feet. 

"Is that so?" He asked and managed to sound completely unconvinced.

"I think it's time to go." Matt announced suddenly, sensing Foggy's curiosity at Peter's lie.

Peter found himself being deftly manhandled by the blind man. "Bye, Foggy!" He called over his shoulder as Matt shoved him out the door.

"Bye Matt's not-boyfriend!"

"What was that about?" Peter asked when they were out on the street.

"As far as Foggy knows, we have only known each other for a few days. So why would I invite a perfect stranger to sleep on my couch?"

"Oh." He threw his hands up into the air, "I guess you aren't the kind of guy to invite vagrants to sleep on your couch."

"I'm known for my Christian penchant for helping those in need but even for me, that's quite a stretch." Matt said as he took Peter's elbow. 

While they walked back to the apartment, stopped by a small restaurant and ordered Chinese. Peter, who hadn't eaten all day, fished out some of the spring rolls to have along the way. He talked between bites, about the events of the day which had Matt laughing as he gestured wildly. Even though he couldn't see what it was Peter was doing, the kinetic energy seemed to come off the man in waves. 

They got into the apartment and carried on their conversation in front of the tv. There was a lull as the news came on. Peter and Matt listened as the anchor began to speak with the caption 'Where is Spider-Man?' over her right shoulder. The report began with raw footage of a bank robbery by a guy in mechanical rhino suit, then cut into more shaky video of Black Cat levelling a building for reasons unknown, and a large pterodactyl like creature that was breaking into high rises to steal sensitive corporate data. The anchor seemed to insinuate that Spider-Man's absence was causing criminals to come out of the woodwork. 

As the report went on, Matt could sense Peter go still. His blood pressure spiked, his breathing was shallow and rapid. "That's enough." Matt growled, turning the TV off. He turned his head and regarded the young man with a thoughtful look. 

"Do you want to go out with me tonight?"

"Out?" Peter asked, sounding confused, "like as in date out?"

"No, as in 'put on a mask and punch people' out."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"I see what you did there." Peter grumbled, nudging him with his shoulder, "No but seriously, that sounds dangerous."

"I'll be there. It's not going to be serious, I just have to check a few things out and I figured you could let off some steam."

"By beating people up?"

"Only the bad guys."

"Fine."


End file.
